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WALTER 8. COLEMAN, Editor aid Proprietor. VOL. XII. ELLIJAY COURIER PUBLISHED EVERY THITBSDA Y —T— WALTER S. COLEMAN. GENERAL DIRECTORY. Superior Coart meets 3d Monday in May and 2nd Monday in October. COUNTT OFFICERS. J. C. Allen, Ordinary. T. W. Craigo, Clerk Superior Court. M. L. Cox, Sheriff. •I. It. Kinciad, Tax Collector. Locke Langley, Tax Receiver. Jas. M. West, Surveyor. G. W. Rice, Coroner. Court of Ordinary meets Ist Monday in each mouth. TOWN COUNCIL. E. W. Coleman, Intendant. L. R. Greer, J.' f cSjfjr. | Commissioners. T. J. Long, ] W. H. Foster, Marshal. RELIGIOUS SERVICES. Methodist Episcopal Church South— Every 3d Sunday and Saturday licfore. G. W. Griner. Baptist Church—Every 2il ail 4 Sunday, by Rev E. B. SUoi>e. Methodist Episcopal Church—Every Ist Saturday and Sunday, by Rev. T. G. ('base. FRATERNAL RECORD. Oak Bowery Lodge, No. 81, F. A. M., meets Ist Friday in each month. L. B. Greer, W. M. T. 11. Tabor, S. W. J. W. ITipp, .1. W. It. Z. Roberts, Treasurer. I). Gnrrcn.S ecretnry. W. S. Coleman, 8. L). W. C. Allen, J. D. H. Garren, Tyler.' R. T. PICKENS, ATTORNEY AT LAW, JS ELI JAY, GEORGIA. Will practice in nil the conrts of Gil mer nml adjoining counties. Estates mul interest in land a specialty. Prompt attention given to all collections. M, J. R. JOBHSOR,' Physician and Surgeon ELLIJAY, GEORGIA. Tenders his professional services to the people of Gilmer and surrounding coun ties and asks the support of his friends as heretofore. All calls promptly filled. E. W. COLEMAN, ATTORNEY AT LAW, ELLIJAY, GA Will practice in Bin • Iti.lge Circuit, Count, Court Justice Court of Oilmer County. Legal business solicited. “Pi oroptnsu” is our motto. DR. J. S. TANKERSLEY, Physician aud Surgeon, TemVrs his professional services to tho citi tens of Ellijay, GUmor and surrounding coun iies. Alt calls promptly attend *d to. Office epatairs over tho firm of Cobb & Son. MFE WALDO THORNTON. D.D.S. DENTIST, Calhoun, Ga. W ill visit Ellijav and Morganton at both the Spring and Fall term of the Superior Court—and oftener by special contract, when sufficient work is guar anteed to justify me in making the visit. Address as above. Tma.v2l.-li WHITE PATH SPRINGS! —THE— Favorite and Popular Resort o] NORTH GEORGIA! Is situated 6 miles north of Ellijay on the Marietta & North Georgia Railroad. Accommodations complete, facilities for ease and comfort unexcelled, and the magnificent Minetal Springs is its chief attraction. For other particulars on board, etc., address, • Mrs. W. F. Robertson, Ellijay, Ga. $25,000.00 IN GOLD! IYII.I. HE PAID FOB ARBUCKLES’ COFFEE WRAPPERS. 1 Premium, - - 51,000.00 2 Premiums, - $500.00 each C Premiums, - $250.00 “ 25 Premiums, - 8100.00 “ 100 Premiums, * 550.00 “ 200 Premiums, - $20.00 ” 1,000 Premiums, • SIO.OO For full particulars and directions see Circu lar in every pound of Arbi*ckleh’ Co vrve. FOB GOOD 108 PRINTING —4O TO ra- ELLIJAV COUltlElt. THE ELLIJAY COURIER. A DIFFERENT VIEW. I like not these grim sages, who would .pray For solitude ami silence, far apart From the fierce beating of the vast world's heart-- Who would ere night their burdens lay away, Ami in some cavern's dim and ghostly shade Would nurse their wounds and count the battle sears That they received in many hanl-fought wars. And tell the agony the sword-thrust made. This is not life, nor is this longing meet For men whose blasted live3 again may bud. For mo—ah, this would seem to me most sweet— To stand breast high within tho soething flood, Unsheltered to the noonday’s fiercest heat, On truth and right bestowed my heart's best blood. —Alice if. Schoff. BARBARA’S LEGACY. “If any relatives of tho late James Hanford, some time curate of Widston, be still living, they may hear something to their advantage by applying to Messrs. Dod & Son, Solicitors, King street.” Barbara Reed put down the paper with a jerk. “I wonder if that means me,” she said, thoughtfully. “Sly grandfather’s name was certainly James Hanford, and I know he was a curate, but I did not know (here was any money in the family.” “If you think it worth while, go to Slc-srs. Dod & Son and find out,” sug gested a sharp-featured elderly lady, who sat slitching at the table oppo site. “Of course I will!” Why, there may be five thousand pounds waiting for me there.” “Or five pounds, more likely,” supple mented tho stitcher. Barbara laughed. “I’d rather think of the thousands, Mrs. Stewart; they would be much more to my advan tage.” “I know of something that would be more for your advantage than all the money you are ever likely to'get from advertisements, if you had but the good sense to see it,” returned that lady sig nificantly. Barbara flushed as she left the room to get her cloak and bonnet and set out for home. She was the music-mistress in Mrs. Stewart’s school, and had been one of the most promising pupils in it before that. She was almost alone in the world, except for a distant aunt with whom she lived, and after school ended it became neecbsnry that she should ®*Rfnething toward keeping up the little household, and she had been very glad w-lien Mrs. Stewart’s proposal to retain her far the younger girls’ music lessons saved her from applying to strangers. Still, not withstanding her obligations, there were times when Barbara felt strongly dis posed to jirotest against that lady’s au thority, which was pretty much as it had been in the days she was ‘ ‘ quite a child, ” as Barbara often phrased it to herself. “felie never seems to remember that I am grown up and able to manage my own affairs. ■ It does not follow that because I was her pupil once she has any right to interfere in this manner now.” She was marching down the road, her head well up, while she argued the matter but to her own satisfaction, when some one quietly fell into step beside her. The shadow vanished from her brow like morning mist as she looked around. “What are you in such a hurry for? I could scarcely keep you in sight,” in quired the new comer. ■ -*'v It was tho subject of Mrs. Stewart’s admonition, her drawing-master—clever enough at his profession, but of his in dustry and general dependableness she had not the highest opinion. Not so Miss Barbara,, who was fast developing a very warm sentiment tor the good look ing young artist. “I am going h°uic to deposit my mu sic, and after that I think of making a journey into the city, to King street.” “King street! That is an expedition.” “Isn’t it! But I have some idea of coming into a fortune, and that is the place I am to apply to.” Mr. Lawrence’s face showed such genuine interest in the news that Barbara speedily toi# him all she knew, perhaps with a little unconscious ex aggeration, by way of justifying her first announcement. “You will be sure and let me. know the result of your expedition? ’ 1 be Said,. earnestly, with a lingering clasp of the hand, as he left her at the corner of her own street. “I shall be-most anxious-1* hear, and no one deserves such a fortune better than yourself. The dingy, jolting omnibus that con veyed Barbara to the city that afternoon might have been a royal chariot for all she felt of it. She was absorbed in K visions of her coming greatness. >re of the interminable practicing at Mrs. Stewart’s lor herself, no drawing lessons for someone else. Who could tell but next May there might be anew member at the Academy, anew picture to attract all eyes? No man tied down to mere teaching could have a fair chance. Barbara’s face glowed with the thought that it might be her hand that should set the fettered genius free. The glow was still there when she turned into King street and ran full against a plain, rather commonplace, young man coming out of one of the warehouses. “Why, Miss Barbara, it is not often you find your way to this quarter,” he said, as he held out his hand. It was a brown, ungloved hand, and bore evident traces of hard service. Barbara gave the tips of her fingers rather coolly, constrasting it with the wcll-shaiicd yellow-gloved one that had pressed hers a little before. “I came on some business, Mr. Grant,” abc said. “I believe there is a legacy waiting for me; it is advertised in the papers, and I am going to sec the solici tors now.” John Grant laughed. Well, I hope you may get it, Miss Barbara; for my self, I never had much faith in legacies since I wasted twenty-five shillings once in answeriug advertisements about one.” “That may have been a very different matter from this,” returned Barbara, sillily. “I Imd In tier not detain you any longer, Mr. Giant.” “And ilia’ is the man Mrs Klewsrt thinks worih half s ileus like Alfre I Jawn me!" said Barbara Us herself, as “A MAP OP BUST LIFE—ITS FLfCTI'ATIONS AM) ITS VAST CONCERNS." ELLIJAY. GA„ THURSDAY', NOVEMBER 3. 1887. she walked into Messrs. Dod & Son’s office. ,e Her face was several shades longer when she came out agnin. Messrs. Dod A Son had not received her with by any means the respectful enthusiasm she cx l>ccted. There had been awkward ques tions to answer aud proofs and genealo gies that she had not been prepared to answer; indeed, she had half fancied they took her for au impostor, they had been so reluctant to port with any infor mation. She should hear from them in a few days, and in the meantime she must kindly fill in the answers to certain ques tions on a paper they had given her. “And I thought I should almost have had it iu my pocket by this time,” she said to herself, ruefully. “Well, I must have patience for another week or so. It is sure to be settled thou; only—only I’d have liked to have something certain to tell Mr. Lawrence.” Mr. Lawrence sympathized with her over the delay almost ns deeply as she did with herself when she told him the result of her visit the next day. Barbara was quite struck with the way he seemed to enter into all her feelings. “And they did not even give you an idea how much it was.likely to be?” he asked. “Not exactly,” admitted Barbara; “but they were so cautious I could tell by their manner that It must be a good deal.” “I don’t know if that is altogether a criterion.' These old lawyers are very deceptive sometimes,” he replied. “How ever, you cau get that paper tilled up and sent in; and I would not lose any time about it, if I were you,” he added. - John Grant was the next person to whom she had to explain her non-suc cess. “Just what I expected, Miss Barbara,” ho said, cheerfully. “One is never sure of a chance of that kind till one has actually got it. I would not build upon it in auy way, if I were in your plwc.” “Y’ou don’t seem to have had a for tunate experience in that way,” retorted Barbara, ungratefully. “It is only de ferred in this case, aud I am iu no hurry for a few days.” „ “Days!” echoed John. “There’s a man in our office has waited years, and is likely to wait, as far as lean see.” ' Mrs. Stewart was another painful thorn in tho path at this juncture. “Barbara, my dear,” she remarked one day after school was dismissed, “were you paying any attention whatever to the practice this afternoon?” Barbara flushed scarlet. “I was beside the piano the whole time,” she declared,. • “Your body fnay have been there, but your mind certainly was not. Now, my dear, you must really endeavor to put this unfortunate legacy out of you* head for "tfic present ; you nave been fit for very little since it was first mentioned. So far it has proved decidedly tho reverse of any advantage to you.” *• Ten days later came the much-looked for communication from Messrs. Dod & Son. “They were in receipt of Miss Reed’s paper, and could assure her the mutter should have their best attention, and were hers most obediently,” etc. Barbara flung it into her desk with a disappointed face. It was tedious to be obliged to wait in suspense like this. She would hardly know how to get through the time but for Mr. Lawrence’s attention and warm interest in the upshot. -> John Grants’s indifference, * not Vto say scepticism, on the subject threw up his rival’s superior qualities in full relief, and yet there were times when Barbara felt just a little puzzled that Mr. Lawrence went no farther. With all his solicitude, and looks that said more than words, he never absolutely committed himself to anything more binding than friendship. “I can’t ask him,” she said.one day, under her breath, as she walked slowly home after one of these “accidental” meetings. “But, oh, Ido wish he would say straight out what lie means, or else keep away altogether. It makes one feel so unsettled. ’ ■. ■-■ Poor Barbara was to feel more unset tled still before she reached home. It was a lovely summer evening, and fifty yards farther on she was joined by an other cavalier—John Grant this time. She shrank back at first, half afraid of some jesting inquiry after Messrs. Dod & Sod, but she speedily discovered that he seemed to have forgotten their very existence. There was something else in his mind, and he lost no time irr saying very “straight out” indeed what it was. “I may not be able to offer you a fine house and luxuries,” he said, “but I have saved plenty to begin in comfort, and I think we mig.it be very happy together if you would, only try. I have thought about it for the last two years and worked hard to be able to tell you so.” Barbara looked up him with genuine tears in her eyes. “lam so sorry!” she said. “I never thought of such a thing —at least, not in serious earnest, ”as she remembered sundry remarks of Mrs. Stewart’s. “Besides, there's lots of other better girls you might find.” “That is not tho point,” he interrup ted"; “it’s you, not other girls, I want. Try and think of it, Barbara. I don’t want to hurry you, but let me have a line as soon as you can; it means a good deal to me.” Barbara went home in kind of a haze. .She had never thought so highly of John Grant and his straightforward depend nblcness as at that moment; but, on the other hand, there .was Mr. Lawrence, with his handsome face aud dashing manner, and there was a little undefined sense of resentment against Mrs. Stewart, who had always been a strong, if not en tirely judicious advocate for John Grant; and—and theft'there was this probab’c fortune thijt might be coming to her. Barbara laoked at the peaceful evening sky in sore perplexity us to what she ought to do, or what she really wished. “He said he didn’t want to huriy me,” she decided, finally. “I'll just wait and see how things go.” For another week or two things con tinued to go in much the same fashion. Mrs. Stewart wore a chronic air of disap proval. John Grant was Invisible. Only Mr. Lnwreueo was to the fore with hi* >syni|>uthetic inquiries, but in some mys terious way Barbara began to find them Irritating rather than flattering. Shu got tir<<l of having the sumo response: “Nothing yet," and of hearing the same iiolite remarks alsnit his admiration of ier. They did not go deep enough. “If he lias, nothing moiu Ilian that to say lie ought not to have said it at all," she re. fleeted, contrasting it half iiiieonselously with John Grant s very uptiovite lino of conduct. At last, one Saturday morning, as slio was setting out for Mrs. Stewart’s she met tho postman, who gave her a blue official-looking envelope. Barbara stood still on the steps, holding her breath as she opened it. “Messrs. Dod & Son’s compliments to Miss Reed, and beg to inform her that Mrs. Elizabeth Drake has been proved tho nearest kin, and consequently heir-at law to the £SOO left by flic late Mr. Jas. Handford.” Miss Reed folded up the letter and put it soberly into her jacket pocket. She had scarcely realized before how much she had been counting upon it. There was nothing left now but to put on a brave face and make the. best of it. “Mrs. Stewart," she sid, knocking nt the door of that lady’s sitting-room be fore she began her moriiug practice, “I want to tell you I have heard about that legacy at last.” “Well?” Mrs. Stewart looked up from her desk, pen in hand. “It’s not well,” said Barbara, trying to smile. “There is someone nearer than I am—a Mrs. Elizabeth Drake. She gets it all—it was £500.” Mrs. Stewart laid down her pen and patted the girl’s shoulder,kindly. “Never mind, Barbara; you may be glad to have missed it some day, though it’s not pleas ant now. There are many other good things in the world beside money.” “It would have helped very nicely, though, ” sighed Barbara. “No.doubt ; but it’s not to be, so just try and forget it. You know you are not utterly dependent upon it.” As Barb -a crossed the hall to the school-room that afternoon she encoun tered Mr. Lawrence. He was standing at the table buttoning his light gloves. She saw at tho first glance that Mrs. Stewart had told him of her disappointment. She hesitated one instant, then wont straight up to him. “You see I am not to come into a for tune after all,” she said ouictly. “So it seems,” he said coldly, not looking up from a refractory button. “ But it was not much of a fortune after all. I thought it was to be five or six times that amount.” “ I wish I had never heard of it, ” spoke Barbara, looking at him in scornful sur prise. “It has been nothing but an up set and annoyance.” “ Y-es, it is rather a pity—disappoint ing and waste of fime, too’. Well, lam going into the country for a few weeks, Misi Reed, so good afternoon if I don’t chance to see you again.” “Good afternoon,” returned Barbara, with a frigid bow, as she opened the door. A tiny note waadroppei) into the pillar post that same evening addressed to Mr. John Grant., “Dear John,” it ran, “I’m not half good enough for you, but if you still wish it—l’ll try. ” It was not, perhaps, a great achieve ment in tho way of composition for a young lady who had been under Mrs. Stewart’s guidance for so long, but it perfectly satisfied the person it was in tended for, and much loftier epistles havo often failed in that respect. “Mrs. Stewart, that unfortunate leg acy was something to my advantage, after all,” Mrs. John Grant said some months later: “I don’t know what Mrs. Elizabeth Drake did with it, but I do know I would not change with her. The missing it has brought me far more hap piness than the getting it ever could.” Mark Twain’s Courtship. Mark Twain has been the subject of many good stories in his day, and the appended one from the Indianapolis Journal , about a trying moment in his courtship, is worth reproducing: As every one knows, Mr. Clemens .first met his beautiful wife whilo on the famous voyage of tho Quaker City, and he pursued his acquaintance after their return so closely that at last the young lady’s papa one day called the ardent and devoted ifark into his private study and said, after some preamble: “Mr. Clemens, I have something to say to you which bears upon a subject of gravo importance, at least to me and mine. You have been coming here for some time, and your manner leaves no doubt in my mind as to your object, Now, my daughter’s welfare is very dear to me, and before I can admit yon to her society on the footing of a suitor to her hand, I would like to know something more than I do about you and your an tecedents, etc. Stop a minute! You must remember that a man may be “a good fellow, and a pleasant companion on a voyage and all that, but when it is a question as grave os this a wise father tries to take every precaution before al lowing his daughter’s affections to be come engaged, and I ask of you, as a gentleman, that you shall give me the names ot some of yonr friends in Cali fornia to whom I may write and make such inquiries as I deem necessary, that is, if you still desire our friendship.” It was now Mark Twain’s turn. “Sir,” said he, bowing profoundly, as became a young man who respects his hoped-for father-in-law, “your sentiments are in every way correct. I approve of them myself, and hasten to add that you have not been mistaken in my sentiments to ward your daughter, whom I may tell you candidly seems to me to be the most perfect of her sex, and I honor jour solicitation for her welfare. I am not only perfectly willing to give you refer ences, but am only too glad to havo an opportunity to do so, which my natural modesty would have prevented me from offering. Therefore permit me to give you the names of a few of my friends. I will write them down. 1 irst is Lieu tenant-General John McC'orab, Alexander Badlam, General I andcr and Colonel W. 11. L. Barnes. They will all lie for me just as I would for them under like circumstances.” This conclusion broke the old man all up, and he never asked more reference nor wrote to those gentle men. A Burning to the Crown. Au old farmer said to our Livermore Fulla correspondent: “There's no trouble with crown if you only handle them right. Well, !r, I've got three acre* and ahalfaa good corn as there is around hern. and they haven't touched it. I'll tell troll how I do it. A noon nsibecrowt I nit in an apiiearaucc I i.hoot u. many at can. and t'ie;i when my corn ecu up I hang their dead ImmLc* around ilia Held, and they don't toueh it No, air, if the erowa we aine of th"ir d* id i ooi|ianiou and haven't tasted of the i urn, they never will,/r,r isto# (Aft.) Jvurtvtt, BUDGET 0E FUN. HUMOROUS f-KETCHES FROM VARIOUS SOURCES. A Truly Wonderful Man—A Harbor's Fright lb I Example—Oder ni in ing to Sell —Wanted Insur ance—Too Old, Etc., Etc. Featherly—“l don't think much of your friend Robinson, Dumley.” Dumley—“Wlrat’s tho matter with him?” Feather!cy —“l read him an original poem last night of twenty-four verses, and lie walked off without saying a word.” Dumley—“He is certainly a wonderful man.” Fcatherlcy—“How wonderful?" Dumley—“ln being able to walk off. If he were not a wonderful man he would have been carried off.”— Harper's Bazar. A Harbor's Frightful Example. “Will you take a bottle of hair re storer ? ” asked a barber of a customer. “Not now, thank you,” the latter re plied. “By the way, may I ask you why you don’t use the hair restorer your self ? Your locks are rather thin.” As tho barber had scarcely a hair on his head, the phrase “ rather thin ” sounded liko sarcasm. “The boss doesn’t allow it,” explained the barber. “Why not? I’d thiuk it would be a recommendation. ” “No; he selects only bald-headed men to work for him, and hopes to sell liis hair restorer by having them pose as frightful examples."— Teras Siftings. Determined to SMI. “Strangor, I want to sell ycr a horse.” “Stranger,” was the reply, “I don’t want him.” “Stranger,” rejoined tho wayfarer, “ycr recly must buy him. Yor never sec a better horse for the price.” “What is tho price, stranger?” asked the contemplative man. “A hundred and fifty dollars'and dirt cheap at that.” The inquirer meditated for a few mo ments ana then blandly remarked: “Stranger, I’ll give ycr five.” The equestrian dismounted, saying with carnestnes: “Stranger, I won’t al low one hundred and forty-five dollars to stand between you and me and a trade. The horso is yours.”— Siftings. Wanted Insurance. “Is this a fire insurance company !”bc inquired #s-4h* hcsitwftugly entered the office of one of the best known companies in tho country. “ Yes, sir. Anything wo can do for you ?” “Yes. I’m a travoling man, and I’ve just got a situation. I’ve been unfortunate in every other job I've had. Always struck dull trade you know and got fired. Now, if you will insure me against fire in this case I’ll be perfectly willing to pay what ever is reasonable for a policy.” But the company wasn’t filling that kind of a long felt want. —Merchant Trav eler. Too Old. “Say! lemme use your telephone a minit!” he exclaimed, as ho rushed into an office on Griswold street. “Certainly." “Hello! hello! Givo mo 0,205. Is that you, darling?” (“Yes.”) “Say, pet, I left my wallet on the dresser with $250 iu it. Did you find it?” (“Yes.”) “Good! ’Fraid I’d lost it on the street. Big load off my mind. Shall I bring up those shoes?” (“Yes.”) “I’m dead broke, you know, but per haps I can borrow $5 until after dinner, so as not to disappoint you. Good-by, darling.” (“Good-by, sweetness.”) “Say,” he said to the man at the desk, “perhaps you overheard what I said, and t will lend mo the five.” The occupant pointed over his shoulder to the door. “What? Skip?” “Yes.” “Too’old?" “Yes.” “Been caught before?” “Yes.” “Iskip! Good-by !”—Detroit Free Press. The Court Adjourned. A witness was being examined before a Dakota justice of the peace, and in the course of his testimony mentioned hav ing said to the prisoner at one time that he had a horse he wanted to trade. “Hey?” said the prosecuting attorney, who was conducting the examination; “was it that sor’l one of yours?” “Yes.” “Want to trade yet?” “Don’t care if I do—what you got?” “He hasn’t anything that you want,” putin the attorney for the defense; “if you want to trade I can give you a mighty good show with my bay marc.” “Order in the court room!” roared the justice, waking up at this point. “What was the last testimony you gave?” “I said I once met the prisoner and said to him: ‘Bill, I’d like to trade you that sor’l mare o’ mine ’ ” “Hold on a minute,” said the justice, “you don’t want to trade your sor’l yet, I s’posc?” ) “I might if I got a good chance.” “Say,” continued the court, “if you mean business I can give you jest the slickest swap for that buckskin boss of mine, an’ ’bout $lO to boot, that you •ver seen! This court is adjourned for one hour—come out to the barn and look my boss over.— Dab>ta Bell. Ho Hated a Thief. Late one afternoon while on the edge of the Block Hills country, near HufTulo (lap,we got into conversation with a set tler and mentioned tliat wo were going to camp for the night down the road about a quarter of a mile, among tome tree*. “Of course you'll do a* you please, gcn'l'men," said the native, “hut I’ll ail vise you nottcr camp there. ” “Why not f" “D'ye see that cabin down 'liout fifty yards from the timber you're siieakiu' Off" “Ves." 4 “Well, sir, the biggest thief in the Hills lives there. If you camp there he’ll be sure to steal som’thin' from you ’fore morn in’.” “Is that so?” • “Y'oti bet! There's my barn back there where I store my oats. For tho last two year that feller hasn’t fed his tenm a single mouthful of his own boss feed—been stentin' out o’ mine all the time." “Should think yon wiSuld do some thing about it.” “Me? Well, y-a-c-s, you might think I would, but you sec the fack is durin’ all this time I’ve been fcedin’ my team out o’ liis oats—been goin’ down nights after lie’s nbed an’ backin’’em up. My team is a little heftier eaters than liis’n so I don’t complain much'. But Ido hate a thief—l jes’ dispute ’gm. Unhook right here in front o’ my house if you want to—this is good campin’ ground." —Dakota Bell. Land Hunting In Arkansas. A man stopped near Patterson’s Bayou and thus addressed on old fellow who stood with his arms resting on a fence: “Do you live here?” he asked. “Don’t see me dying here, do you!" “Ah, you are sportive. I havo heard of this neighborhood, and havo tho names of several people. Where is J. B. Muckle?” “Dead.” “Ah?” “Ah, hah.” “What was the matter with him?” “Sick.” “What sort of sickness?” “Swamp fever.” “Let me sec,” consulting a scrap of paper, “where is Tom W. Buck?” “Dead.” “What did ho die of ?” “Swamp fever.” “Humph. Where can I find Sim B!y?” “In the graveyard.” “Swamp fever?” “Yes." “Do you know anything about Calvin Hunter?” “Yes, laid him out. “What was the matter with him?” “Swnmp fever.” “My friend, I have come into this neighborhood to buy land.” The native, smiling a welcome, re plied: “We’ve got the finest country on earth, podner, right here. I’ve got 200 acres that I’ll let you have.”. “How does it lie?” “Fust rate." “How’s the water?” “Best in tho world.” “Land rich?” “Croam couldn’t hold a lightning bug to it.” I ] B pg^ljiriirtiCJul way of health?” “Sweet ns a pro—finest you ever saw.” “No chills?” “Not one." f “Fever of nny kind!” “Not u fever.” “Whatabout those fellows that died?" “Hnh—oh, them fellers. AVhy, you see, they—they—w’y, they oughterdiod.” “Tliiit’s all right, but I don’t believe I want nny land ’round here.” “You don't! W’y, douce tuko your ugly hide, w’y didn’t you tell me nt fust that you thought o' buyin’ land nn’ I wouldn’t n-saiil nothin’ about them fel lers dyin’. Blast your hide! Y'ou go around the country tnkin’ advantage o’ fellers this way. You don’t know now to treat a gentleman. Move on, now, or I’ll hurt you. Como cheatin’ me out of a sale. Move on, I tell you.” —Askansat Traveler. The Life of a Grasshopper. As every one knows, it is a rule of nature every winged insect shall die within tho year (the occasional indivi duals that survive the twelve months only proving the rule), for the stage of wings is the last third of the creature's life. After all, it would be very absurd if wo did not recognize among ourselves the stages of childhood, youth, middle age and old age, which together cover the span of our “threescore years and ten.” An insect’s stages proceed in a far smaller Cbmpass, and tho winged one is the last. It is really tho old age of the caterpillar or grub. Thus a grasshopper may be for two or three years a grub, for another sir months a hobbledehoy—that is, a wing less thing, half grub, half grasshopper— and then for a further space a winged grasshopper. In the last stage it mar ries, and there is an end of its purpose. Nature has no further need for it and docs not care whether it dies dr not. The slender fragility of the insect’s ap pearance may have suggested a feeble hold of life; some grasshoppers look like the mere specters of insects. About others, too, there is a vegetable, perisha ble look, as of thin grass-blades that a frost would kill or heat shrivel up; a sus picion about their sere and faded edges that they are already beginning to wither. But the grasshopper has nothing to complain of us to its length of life. It sings the summer in and the autumn out, and goes to sleep with the year.—Gentle man's Magazine. A Booth American Sea Dock. " In a Barclay street store is a splendid specimen of the South American loon, stuffed by tho same artist of Rochester who has preserved Jumbo for posterity. It is nothing but an enormous sea duck, with a four-inch bill, sharp os a needle and keen us a blade. The other day a sailor dropped in and paused admiringly before the bird. “ Where did lie come from, shipmntc ? ” “Off the coast of Brazil,” the proprie tor replied. “Well,” said the old salt, “I was askin’ because I’ve bet rations us I’m the only man as ever had one o’ them pesky things in my hand alive. They’re smarter 'n a fox, and devilish hard to shoot. Wo was a sailin’ the Gulf o’ Mexico in tho Vic tor ’bout ton year ago, when one of them critters came alongside and cast anchor on tho bowsprit, I was younger then a* lam now, and says I : ‘ Bird, ahoy ! Rein mu if I don’t run down that thing.’ It wnsucarly dark, and I feels my way cau tious- like along I he bowsprit and grabbed him sudden by thu neck afore he k no wed what wna up. I’m a tollin’ you it was a job a gel tin’ that fellow on deck, lie cut my coat like a razor. We bound him to the duck with a three cord rope. He took a loaf of bread we tossed him, and halved it with his Idll like a knife. Ue foie daylight he’d worked his way through that rone and was gone, illruwl if | don’t believe them birds can Idle through a lamp post."—Ala York Hsh, •LOU Per inu, In A4tmm. NO. 33. HARVEST. L Tho purple irino skins cluster upon tho droop ing vine. The sun fod peach leans low upon tho gar den wall. With their burden gold and ruddy the apple boughs incline. The pear and plum bend down to the eager reach of all. a. The polished nuts are drooping from sheaths of bursting burrs, The golden gorse is weaving a field of cloth of gold, The airs are heavy laden with the balsam of the firs, The aster’s royal splendor is a marvel on the mold. in. A tender flush of Summer lingers still on hill and plain, And on the fields close stacked end on the woods aglow; There’s a sound of harvest singing, and a sound of falling grain, And a sound of flashing sickles as the map el's come and go. IV. The sadness of perfection lies in these sweet late days, With cool crisp morns and eves and noons of mellow fire; As on the full bloom rose that forecasts Its own decay, Too fair and faultless to leave room for hope or for desire. —Jennie Waxwell Paine. PITII AND POINT. Bills are usually presented in duo time. The crow is a sensible bird for he sel dom opens his mouth without caws. — Waterloo Observer. I never was on the dull, tamo shore, , But I loved the great sea more and ipore; And ne’er on the steamer's deck I stand, Bat that I’d give my boots for land.— Life. Advice to young ladies who arc setting their caps: Use percussion caps so that tho “pop” may be heard.— New Ilaven News. Tho reason that dogs are seldom drowned is because they always have their bark with them.— Duluth Para grapher. What is ancestry after all? Tho rich man as well as the poor one begins Ufa without a shirt to his back.— Charleston Advertiser. A policeman declares that ho has to handle about as many pieces of male matter as they do at tho postoffice.— New York News. Some think it adds to a woman’s beau ty to bang her hair, but others think a wbman is ugly who bangs her heir.— St. Paul Herald. . What Is that sound, so doop and strong, That seems the skies to burst! What great o vent so moves the throng!— McGinnis is out at first. Washington Critic. Thoro is no need of your taking your daughter to Europe in order that she may marry a title. For $3,000 a man can bo ennobled in Hawaii.— Minneapolis Tri bune. The number of photographers in tho United States has incressed to eleven thousand, but you can try them all und not get a picture to do you full justice. —Detroit Free Press. “How did you break that lamp?” roared Mr. Testy. “Just lighted it, and that broke it," said his wife; “darkness falls, you know, but light breaks.” “It’s a wonder your head doesn’t break, then,” Mr. Testy was going to say, but unfortu nately, ho didn’t think of it.— Burdette. A FELT WANT. The social young fellow, Whose years are a score, Who hath at the mountains, Or on the sea-shore, With sad prodigality Squandered his store, Now taketh no comfort in Pleasuring that Hath gone down the past With its blisses ei-stat- Ic; but bitten, sayeth In language quite pat, “It would nil a felt want, If I had a fall hat!” —Tid-Bits. Ye Storle or Ye Doggie, Once in ye very olden tyme n Merj chantt sayd too an Eddy tor, “I doau thynke advertizing payes.” “Let me show yov,’’ said yc Eddytor, “I pvtt 1 lyne in my l'apyr and not charge yov a penrie.” “A 11 right,” replied the Merchantt, “and we will see.” So ye Eddytor pvtte yc lyne in his papyr: WANTED A DOGGE. John Jones, 359 Olde st. Now yt happened that 400 Peple eache brovghte a Dogge on ye next dayc there after,' so that Mister Jones (whych was ye Mcrchantt’s nayme) was overrunno with Dogge’s. “Synce there are so manye Dogges,” sayd he, “I thynke I myght make some bysiness and will give you a pennio for eache Dogge.” Ye people tooke ye pennic each for his Dogge bccavse there were so manye Dogges, and Mister Jones skynned ye 400 Dogges and made bootes and glovft from ye 400 hydes and thvs mayd A Byo Fortvne, and thereafter added to yt by advertiz ing in ye Eddytor’s papyr. —American Orocer. 4 Transformation Scone. They are very business-like in Europo and very exact in their methods. My friend was in Vienna. He had taken from here a letter of credit on one of the liest known banks, and he wanted to draw on it. So ho sought the agency of tho bank in Vieuua. lie walked into an office which had a big barricade in front of a long desk and two small hole* cut for the convenience of customers. Ho walked up to tlio Hut of them. A man came up. He handed the letter of credit to him. The man looked at it, and said very gruffly; “Next window,” My friend went to the next window, a man cauie up, took hi* letter of credit, looked at it, smiled pleasautly, and said; "That's all right, How umth da* you wish to draw, sirt” It was tb mum mail. — Hum AVuacune OkrwtiU !*, (loud inauarrs and good morals sra •worn friends and firm allies. —HoMd,